Chapter 101 - Damn Reincarnation

The Market

“I think adding a beard would make you look even more ill-tempered.”

“Do I need to look ill-tempered?”

“If you are going to disguise yourself as a slave trader, wouldn't it be better to look unmistakably like one?”

“Fair point.”

Eugene glared at Kristina, looking distinctly displeased.

“But why am I the only one in disguise? You should disguise yourself too.”

“Why must I disguise myself as well?”

“What, are you going to strut into the slave market in your priestly robes, announcing that you're a priest? Like those bastards would ever let you in.”

“... That is a very convincing argument, but I have no intention of removing these clothes and changing my appearance.”

Kristina tucked her chin in, her expression firm. It seemed she would not take off her priestly robes for any reason.

“Besides, surely it isn't necessary for me to disguise myself too? We could make up a reason for a priest to accompany you...”

“Never mind your own position. The Holy Empire would catch a hell of a lot of flak. A priest taking bribes from a slave trader and buying elves... You don't mind rumors like that going around?”

Kristina's expression stiffened at that. After a moment's hesitation, she rose from her seat.

“... I will give it some thought.”

“Really, you could just stay behind.”

“I cannot. I have a duty to accompany you on your journey, Sir Eugene.”

“A duty? That's a bit much.”

Still teasing her, Eugene looked into the mirror again. This transformation magic was more advanced than what he had used on Bolero Street. It couldn't change his bone structure, but his face now belonged to a menacing middle-aged man. He had also changed his hair from ash gray to a yellowish blond and slicked it to the side with two handfuls of oil.

Today, a slave market was being held with many of Samar's tribes participating. Held only twice a year, the market offered members of various races for sale, including captured outsiders. Of them all, elves commanded the highest prices.

Before using the leaf of the World Tree to search for the elven domain, Eugene had decided to attend the slave market and snatch up the elves offered there.

There was no grand reason for it.

Whether the leaf of the World Tree would actually guide him to the elven domain was still in doubt, but once that was over, he would take the elves in this village to the Lionheart main estate. The proper thing would be to ask the main family's permission first, but given the distance, he intended to bring them there first and ask permission afterward.

Since he would be taking them anyway, wouldn't it be simpler to gather up the elves offered at the slave market beforehand too?

“A beard would be overdoing it.”

Eugene muttered to himself as he twisted his face into various expressions before the mirror.

“Yes, sir. Your face already looks quite ill-tempered enough.”

The one-eyed elf chimed in. She regarded Eugene with her remaining eye, and her gaze was far from friendly.

He might be a guest of their guardian, Siknard, but many of the elves in this village harbored resentment toward humans.

The one-eyed elf, Levera, was no exception. In particular, the elves here resented Eugene because they had been told they would soon leave the forest to live in the woods belonging to the Lionheart main estate.

They understood the situation. Their guardian, Siknard, had told them himself. Living in the main estate's woods would be more comfortable than living in Samar, which swarmed with savage tribes and hunters. Since the fairy trees protecting the village's elves would be moved with them, they would not have to worry about demonic sickness either.

Still... Levera and many of the other elves couldn't help being afraid of placing themselves under the protection of a human rather than their own kind or the forest.

Eugene understood their position well enough. If he had to put it into words, going to the slave market to gather up the elves there was also a deliberate show of kindness.

'I can't worry about how they choose to take it, though.'

Even so, their initial hostility had softened. How could it not? He was going to the slave market, taking risks he had no need to take, and spending a fortune to buy the elves on sale and bring them to the village. Then he would give them a place to live in the Lionheart domain, somewhere safer than this forest.

'If they still shriek that they hate me just because I'm human after I do all that, are they even elves? They're just ungrateful little shits.'

With that thought, Eugene changed the shape of his cloak. As he did, Kristina returned from her brief trip outside.

“Sir Eugene. Look at this.”

Her face wore a thoroughly pleased smile. With a large robe draped over her priestly clothes, she came up to Eugene and turned in a full circle.

“This way, I needn't remove my priestly clothes, and I can hide my face by putting up the hood.”

“Isn't it a little ridiculous to show that off like some great discovery?”

Kristina's smile twitched at his question. She stopped turning and buttoned her robe, glaring at Eugene through narrowed eyes.

“... Are you sure I don't need to come with you?”

Narissa stood nearby on crutches, fidgeting. She was afraid of going to the slave market, but at the same time, she wanted to help Eugene and Kristina, who had done so much for her.

“Wait here. If we take you along and run into the Garung tribe, it'll just make things troublesome.”

“... Yes...”

Narissa's shoulders jolted at the mention of the Garung tribe. It had been only a few days since she had thrown herself off a cliff to escape pursuers riding enormous wolves.

“You don't have to come either.”

“Do you think an outsider with no merchandise can enter and leave the market as he pleases?”

He couldn't argue with that. Eugene checked the trading token he had obtained from Siknard beforehand. It had been issued by the Abor tribe, one of Samar's major tribes. Without it, he couldn't enter the market, no matter how insistently he claimed to be a slave trader.

“Or would you prefer to trade on the Lionheart name? If you reveal your identity, sir, several of the major tribes will welcome you as an honored guest and allow you into the market.”

“I don't want to smear shit all over the family name just to get inside.”

Grumbling, Eugene stood. Levera smiled with her one remaining eye.

“If you carry the trading token and bring merchandise, you can enter the market for a small admission fee.”

“Any inspections?”

“None. The merchants pass that token around among themselves to begin with.”

Eugene didn't bother asking why Siknard had possessed such a token. Wasn't it obvious? Slave traders must have come snooping around to capture wandering elves, only to be cut down by Siknard's sword.

“Don't worry too much. I have been through that market before, so I can provide whatever guidance you need.”

As she spoke, Levera fastened shackles around her own wrists, ankles, and neck. Watching her, Narissa began to tremble. When Levera attached a heavy chain to her ankle shackles, Narissa went deathly pale and crumpled to the ground.

“Hih... eek... hhk...”

Unlike Narissa, who was convulsing, Levera's eye remained cold and composed. She staggered to her feet and placed the long, dangling chain in Eugene's hand.

“... Do I have to hold it already?”

“You must treat me as harshly as your face suggests. If you show me consideration, the other merchants and the natives will find you suspicious, Sir Eugene.”

“As you say, slave.”

Eugene answered at once and tugged on the chain. Narissa clamped a hand over her mouth at the sight, while Levera bowed her head without complaint.

* * *

“I'm Ryan.”

“... I'm Tina.”

Before arriving at the market, they got their stories straight. Eugene's alias would be Ryan, and Kristina's would be Tina.

Ryan was a hunter and former mercenary. Tina was his wife.

“Must I be your wife?”

“Would you rather be another slave?”

“... A married couple working as hunters in the first place...”

“Birds of a feather flock together, don't they?”

“With your current face, Sir Eugene... no, Sir Ryan, suggesting that we are birds of a feather is a grave insult to me.”

“Sorry, but your face isn't exactly a prize right now either.”

Kristina's face crumpled at his sneering reply. It currently resembled that of a vicious, bad-tempered middle-aged woman.

“While you're at it, change the way you talk.”

“Pardon?”

“Talking so sweetly doesn't suit that face at all. Throw in some swearing, roughen up your voice...”

“... Is that really necessary?”

“Are you trying to ruin this instead of helping?”

“I-I shall try... I'll try. I'll give it a try.”

“That's worse than not trying at all. Why not just pretend you can't speak? I doubt you'll have any reason to open your mouth there anyway.”

Kristina pressed her lips tightly together and glared at Eugene. With her real face, she would have hidden it behind a smile rather than glare like that. Perhaps because her face had changed, her glare was utterly ferocious.

Only the major tribes had the right to host a slave market. This time, it was being held in the territory of the Jiyal tribe.

'I thought we'd at least be going into a city.'

Perhaps because outsiders and members of other tribes would be coming and going, the market was held in the middle of the forest rather than in a city. As a black market, it resembled Bolero Street in Aroth, but that was where the resemblance ended. The slave market here was incomparably more primitive.

Even entering it was like that. The Jiyal warriors patrolling throughout the forest glared at the arriving merchants and acted threateningly toward guests from other tribes as well.

'The market is just an afterthought.'

He could more or less understand. The market was held only twice a year. During this period, even tribes hostile to one another refrained from fighting, because the major tribes coordinated matters to prevent clashes at the slave market.

Even so, anywhere this many people gathered, seeds of conflict were scattered everywhere. Wary and hostile toward one another, they puffed themselves up and measured their strength against their rivals.

The honored guests with ties to the various tribes privately enjoyed the spectacle too. To them, the market itself was a rare sight to behold. And slaves weren't the only things traded here; all manner of lucrative interests changed hands.

Samar was vast. It wasn't merely teeming with trees. Precious resources rarely found elsewhere on the continent lay buried here too. Mines yielding costly gemstones or mithril. Various materials harvested from monsters. Elixirs that artificially increased mana and strengthened the body. Heirlooms passed down through the generations of each tribe.

For honored guests from outside Samar, these things were worth more than slaves or elves.

“... I want an elf with some part of its body ruined.”

Dazarang Coral. This pig coveted an elven slave he could see for himself, possess, and play with more than lucrative interests that weren't right in front of him.

“... Don't rush.”

Ujicha soothed Dazarang, struggling to keep his face from twisting. This great warrior of the Garung tribe had survived his encounter with the unknown assailant a few days earlier.

It had been a whim on the assailant's part. He had looked contemptuously at Ujicha, who stood there wetting himself and begging for his life, then simply disappeared.

Ujicha felt no shame over what had happened. Anyone would have pissed himself in that situation. In fact, every Garung warrior present had wet his pants. One had even shat himself. More than a few had flattened themselves on the ground and begged for their lives.

Compared to those warriors, Ujicha had been dignified and preserved the honor befitting a great warrior. He had begged for his life, but he hadn't knelt. He had pissed himself, but he hadn't shat himself.

He had survived instead of dying.

Wasn't that enough? Blon Girak, one of Shimuin's Twelve Champions, had died, but Ujicha hadn't. Their valued guest, Dazarang Coral, had survived too.

That was enough. Blon could no longer introduce him to Shimuin's ladies, but as long as he kept Dazarang happy, a splendid future in Shimuin could still be his.

“You... you, listen. You. You'd better stay on my good side.”

Dazarang glared at Ujicha, his eyes wide.

“Just because Blon's dead doesn't mean you can treat me however you want. You... you know, don't you? Who my father is. Do you think I don't know what you're after?”

Dazarang was an idiot, but he wasn't entirely brainless. Before coming here, he had heard about the deal with Ujicha dozens of times from his father, Count Coral. After arriving at the Garung tribe, he had heard it dozens more times from the now-dead Blon.

“Your tribe's mine. That mine. My father is the only one who'll buy it on the terms you want.”

That wasn't necessarily true, but after comparing several potential buyers, Ujicha had found Count Coral a satisfactory trading partner. For one thing, Count Coral was a noble with considerable standing even in Shimuin.

“Blon dying... that... it couldn't be helped. It-it wasn't my fault.”

Dazarang didn't want to remember that moment. No. What frightened him even more was the mere fact that Blon was dead. The Twelve Champions of Shimuin. Though he ranked last among them, Blon was still one of Shimuin's twelve greatest knights, and Count Coral valued him enormously. That was why he had sent him to Samar as his idiot son's escort.

“I know what you mean, young master.”

Ujicha stared at Dazarang with wide eyes.

“Blon's death was an accident. If the deal goes through, I will testify to Count Coral as you wish.”

“Right... right. B-Blon fell into a cesspit and died. He was drunk... Y-your tribe's toilets are pit latrines. He lost his footing and died in one.”

“... Rather than that, let's say he rode a horse while drunk, fell off, and died. In any case, you needn't worry, young master. So please make sure I have nothing to worry about either.”

“Y-yes. All right. I'll put in a good word with Father and make sure he knights you.”

Knighthood. Ujicha's lips twitched at the word. He felt sorry for the dead Blon, but thanks to his death, Ujicha's future had grown brighter still.

Having lost such a knight, Count Coral would surely set his sights on another strong warrior. Ujicha was confident he could take Blon's place. Once Count Coral knighted him and he built up some achievements, he could even join the Twelve Champions of Shimuin to which Blon had belonged.

'Then... I can live in splendor as a noble.'

Ujicha smirked and looked around. Just look at this primitive, filthy market. Outsider slaves stood naked and shackled, displayed like slabs of meat laid out on stalls.

“Please spare me!”

Cries rang out all around. Everyone was shouting who they were, which family they belonged to, and which country they came from. The tribal criminals offered for sale as slaves puffed themselves up as much as possible, looking around with fear in their eyes.

Watching them, Ujicha strengthened his resolve. Right now, he was at this market as a little pig's escort, but someday he would come here as a noble of Shimuin. He would swagger before the influential figures of the major tribes whom, as Garung's great warrior, he didn't even dare look in the eye. He would return as a noble they would scramble to establish ties with.

Ujicha's lips twitched as he imagined that distant—no, not so distant—future.

“Ujicha!”

Dazarang suddenly grabbed Ujicha's arm and shook it.

“Th-that elf over there. That one!”

“An elf?”

They had spotted only one elf during their tour of the market so far. The problem was that he was male and had all his limbs intact, so Dazarang had shown no interest.

“Up ahead!”

Now, however, Dazarang's voice was more excited than ever. Ujicha looked in the direction he was pointing.

“... It has all its arms and legs, though?”

“It's missing an eye!”

Dazarang shouted, spraying spit. Sure enough, when he looked again, the elf ahead was one-eyed, her right eye covered in scars.

“It isn't even wearing an eyepatch... Is that... is that a knife scar? Or a burn?”

The brazenly exposed scars heightened Dazarang's excitement. Ujicha couldn't begin to understand that twisted fetish, but he had to satisfy Dazarang for the sake of his splendid, sweet future. Nodding vigorously, Ujicha strode forward.

“Hey.”

The merchants leading the elf around were a man and a woman. Dazarang glared at the blinking man. He had a decent build, but it was nothing compared to Ujicha's body, honed by decades in the forest.

'A hunter who used to be a mercenary? His skills are nothing special.'

With the keen eye befitting Garung's great warrior, Ujicha assessed the hunter's abilities.

'And beside him... his wife?'

Their faces were equally ugly, so they seemed to be a married couple.

'Her body is barely trained. A mage... or a whore?'

It was none of his concern. Ujicha folded his arms, showing off their bulging muscles, and blocked their path.

“That elf. Sell it to me.”